The K Ranch
by Gildir
Summary: A day in the life of a young boy bereft of a brother - the same day his brother is arriving at a great temple far, far away.


**The K Ranch**

I do not own the characters in this story. They were created by George Lucas.

**I**

"Welcome, child. Welcome to the Temple. Chosen you have been, and worthy you have been found, though less than a year old you are. The time it now is to show you what you are, and what become you will.

"The Masters here are, the ceremony to guide you through. Perhaps a man with black skin you have never seen, nor one like me. Here the one is who many loves has, and yet attachment avoids, and the one who speaks seldom. The wisest of us perhaps he is. At the proper time one should speak, for words ill-chosen great harm can do."

**II**

Owen stretched and groaned. The sun was coming up, and he had chores. The house seemed strangely silent, and it took him a long moment to remember why. When he did, he wished he hadn't.

As he walked out to the barn and fed the _kuh_-swine, Owen's thoughts wandered back to the week before, and the day the ship left for the capital planet. He remembered Mom and Dad's faces, seemingly so calm but concealing such deep grief. Now, as the swine greedily gobbled their meal, Owen tried to remember the sound of his baby brother crying in the middle of the night, which had once annoyed him so much. He tried to picture his brother's face, so strangely serious for a child of less than a year. But both already were fading.

**III**

"The first part of the ceremony this is. Avoid attachment, the child must. With this ball he will play, as a planet round, as the galaxy bright. For ten minutes play with it he will. Then call him away we will, down the next hall. If the ball he can leave behind, perhaps attachment he can avoid. But a trap it is, that in wait lies for one. Good is friendship, but dangerous; greater the Force is. Beautiful is love, but perilous; greater the Force is.

"The ball he enjoyed playing with, yet down the next corridor he comes. Play again with it he will, or not, as wills the Force. Attachment this child will not rule."

**IV**

At breakfast Mom and Dad were largely silent. Mom started to say something about needing to wash the baby's clothes, but then abruptly stopped herself.

Owen noticed the stranger after breakfast, when he went outside again to gather the eggs from the orange fowl. He was standing by the front gate, gazing at the house as though trying to decide whether to knock on the door or not. When he saw Owen he smiled, a kind and yet slightly befuddled smile, as though he was still not sure of what he should do.

Owen had never been told not to talk to strangers, since no strangers ever appeared on their remote ranch located on a forgotten planet. He scrutinized the man curiously. He was _old_ – much older than Dad, in his fifties or sixties at least. And yet there was something about him that reminded Owen of his father. Perhaps it was the shape of his nose, or the distance between his nose and his eyes, but something immediately made Owen wonder whether this was a distant relative he had never heard of who had come to visit.

"Is this the K Ranch?" the old man asked.

"Yes, sir," Owen said politely. "My Dad owns it and runs it. Mom and I help, of course."

"And you are… Owen?"

Owen knew he should have been suspicious of a stranger, even one who knew his name, yet somehow he could not be afraid of this man. The question sounded as though the man was trying to remember a name he had not heard or thought of for many years.

"Yes, sir. That's my name."

"Owen," the man repeated. "A good name. It is good to see you, Owen. I am on a long journey, and I must soon return to the place from which I have come. I have fought my last fight, one might say, and yet new challenges still lie before me. But I wanted to come back here first. To orient myself, if you like, before I face what lies ahead."

"Come back here?" Owen asked. "You used to live here?"

"Oh, yes, Owen," the man said reminiscently. "A long time ago. So long that I'm not sure I even remember it."

**V**

"The second part of the ceremony this is. Walk through a dark corridor the child must. Strange sounds he will hear. In no danger he is, but know this he does not. Cautiously, slowly he may walk, but if proceed he does not, courage enough he does not have.

"Courage he must have, from the strong the weak to defend, through space to journey, to worlds of heat and cold, seas of storm and deserts of loneliness. Courage he must have, to face loss of friends to death or worse than death, to face loss of everything, if thus his destiny is. Courage he must have, that to be courage itself does not know, that knows only the will of the Force.

"Through the corridor he has passed. Perhaps courage he does not lack. Of the ceremony two parts are past; two more are to come."

**VI**

"Tell me, are you happy here?" the old man asked.

Owen considered how to respond.

"Sometimes I wish I had a dog, like the ones they have on Tatooine," he said. "One was here the other day, but when I looked around for it after I had fed it, it was gone. It had only three legs."

"Are you lonely, then?"

Owen looked directly at the old man, his eyes filling with tears.

"They took my baby brother away," he said, sobbing. "To the capital planet. It's not fair. It's just not fair."

**VII**

"Avoidance of attachment the child has shown. Courage he has shown. Now self-control he must master.

"With this fountain of light will he play. If hold his hands too far from it he does, filled with light the room will be, shapeless, chaotic, unfocused. If too close to it his hands he holds, out no light will come. With his hands in the middle, sing the light will, in spheres, in stars, in shapes of beauty. Show him how will the one who speaks seldom.

"Light learn to control he must, for into his hands given will light be: the light that kills, the light that burns with a touch. Control it he must, never letting it his flesh touch, never to any touching it who a foe is not, not for a moment, not though all the days of his life at his side he carry it.

"Hover in the air his hands do, not too close, not too far, the light bringing forth. Light he will wield, and in light he will walk, in the midst of darkness, even."

**VIII**

"Why did they take your brother away?"

They were sitting together on the fence around the swine pen, the old man balancing amazingly lightly for his age. Owen wiped the tears from his eyes.

"They told Mom and Dad he has great powers. Or will, someday, anyway. They say he'll do great things, see places we can only dream of, help people everywhere when they're in trouble."

"But you still miss him."

"Yeah. I know Mom and Dad do, too, even though they're not saying much." Owen paused, and then the words came out in a rush. "I feel bad that I was angry sometimes when he kept me up at night crying. I wish – I wish I could have told him I loved him, one last time."

"If he has such great powers, perhaps he knows how you feel, wherever he is."

"Maybe. I just wish –" Owen kicked at the fence with his back heels. "I wanted to be there for him as he grew up, y'know? To protect him, look out for him. I was his big brother. I just hope, wherever he is, he finds someone to do that."

"I think he will," the old man said. "I think he'll find more than one person who'll be like a brother to him."

Owen glanced up at the old man as he said it. He was smiling, but, to the boy's puzzlement, the smile was strangely sad.

**IX**

"The last part of the ceremony this is. Surrender to the will of the Force he must. His own will follow he must not.

"An image of his family, a memory, an illusion, before him lies. Go toward them he will, but the Force will hold him back. Greater than family the Force is. Mother, father, brother, left behind all must be. Followed the Force must be. Hold him back ties of affection must not.

"Reach them he cannot. Slowly away he turns. Slowly away he walks. Glances back he does, not at his mother, not at his father. At his brother only for a moment looks he. Then away again he turns. Back through the Temple he comes, not sad, not joyful, but by the will of the Force he is led. Its instrument someday he may be."

**X**

"Are you angry at your parents for letting your brother go?"

Owen sighed.

"I was at first," he said. "But they were too sad for me to stay mad for long. I guess we'll just have to make the best of it."

"I think that is a wise plan," the old man said. "Remember this, Owen: the Force guides all our actions, for good or ill, whatever we do. But we must choose the path of hope, not of despair."

Owen and the stranger stood up. Owen realized that he still didn't know the old man's name.

"Listen, do you want me to tell Mom and Dad you're here? I'm sure you could join us for lunch," Owen said, hoping he was not making a false promise. The recent harvest had been neither the best nor the worst they had ever experienced.

"That will not be necessary," the old man said. "I have accomplished my purpose in returning here. You see, I did not come to speak to your parents. I came to see you."

"Why?" the boy asked.

The old man gazed directly at Owen as he answered. In that moment, Owen remembered his brother's face. And now, although he looked so different, he knew who the old man was.

"I do not remember our parents. But I do remember this place, now. I remember _you_, Owen. And I have always loved you."

Owen's mouth hung open with shock.

"Do not be sad," his brother said, raising his hand in farewell. "Be joyful, Owen."

And with that, before the boy's astonished eyes, he disappeared.

Owen swallowed hard and decided not to tell Mom and Dad what he had seen.

**XI**

"Where he came from, will he know? Children who Jedi are, their earliest days can sometimes remember. But clear and focused their minds must be. Attachment they must avoid. Passion they must master. Memory like water can refresh, or like a sword can pierce. Best not to remember it sometimes is, and yet from within can secrets destroy and corrupt.

"This child, remember he will, but destroy him it will not. Know how to use his memory will he. Treasures great and small will he bring out, at the time that right is. Even when only memory he is, guide others his memory will. In battle will he fall, but fall he never will. A Master account himself he never will, yet Master he will be.

"Welcome, young Obi-Wan. To your new home be welcome."

THE END


End file.
